Evil
by urcool91
Summary: Villains are made in many ways. By their own actions, but what if those actions were misunderstood? By their words, but what if those words were carefully chosen? One action made her a villain, one proposal made her a monster. She will be known for all time as evil, but things are not always as they appear, are they? One-shot, character study.


Price of War

I never thought I'd find myself here, making a decision that would affect everyone for years to come. Almost at the end of the war I never thought we would win. I was almost surreal to stand there before the screens of the control room, the button I knew would secure our victory within my reach. My whole body urged me to press it, but still I hesitated.

The whole idea was unnecessarily cruel. An aircraft disguised as a Capitol ship raining down bombs upon Snow's human shield. Bombs that went off in two rounds, and were made to look like presents, no less. It was just the kind of mind game Snow was abet to play, and I knew I shouldn't stoop to his level when there were still other options left.

There were other options, mind you, but they were all worse than the bombs. We could siege the Capitol, but I knew they were ill-prepared and would all starve in as little as a month. We had already tried to storm it, but that had proven dangerous for both soldiers and civilians, as Snow had no qualms about setting off his traps in crowded streets. It was frustrating, his using our morals against us. The bombs may be our ace in the hole, but they would stimulusly destroy what we'd worked toward. One move, this move, could make me a villain.

Oddly, that thought didn't scare me. The bombs, though cruel, would get us in with minimum fatalities on both sides. If this was the price of war, then so be it. This was why I had been made President, to make the hard decisions, the ones another person wouldn't have the strength to make. I knew that if I pressed the button, I would be ordering the deaths of dozens of innocents, but it was necessary. I would hate it, I would hate the course of events that made it what I needed to do, but if I was to play the villain, I would.

Glancing downwards, I pushed the button, then turned away from the many screens. I didn't want to see the deaths I had caused.

Monster 

I knew I was treading a fine line now, suggesting the final Hunger Games. After the dust of the war had settled people would think rationally again, and solidify my base as a villian will this proposal. They would conveniently forget the other Council members, baying for the blood of all those unfortunate enough to be born in the Capitol. I had suggested the last Games only as an alternative to the wanton bloodlust.

In all honesty, the bloodlust was understandable. It was only natural for the wronged to want revenge, to even the score. It was a sick kind of justice. My way would be more satisfying, or so they thought, and I could only hope that they would come to their senses once they saw children getting killed for their entertainment.

Suggesting it had not been right. I knew that, I had always known that, but it was the best option I had. I didn't want anyone else to die, now that the war was over, but at least this way only twenty-four would be killed, instead of thousands. Damn it, that didn't change anything. It was still wrong.

Wrong as it was, I had done it, what no one else had been sane enough to do. I had made my choice, and now I would have to face the hatred of others... and of myself. It was the last part that choked me. How could I hate myself?

I was, at that moment, a monster. I closed my eyes, taking it in. I was a monster, though I had no choice. I was forced to become what I was. I had chosen the best option and would be demonized for it, both by myself and others. I had chosen to take two dozen lives instead of a million, but what was the difference, really? I was a killer no matter what I chose.

At least I was still me. People would be free to paint a picture of a cold-hearted villian, and part of me would agree with them, but at least I wasn't controlled by the same want for revenge that choked the minds of all the others. Let them hate me when this was all over, I knew they would. But even as a monster I was more human than the ones who wanted all the people of the Capitol dead.

Reaffirmed, yet dreaading what I knew was to come, I opened the door to where the surviving Tributes were seated around a table.

Final Arrow 

It was strange how that second seeemed to stretch across eternity. As I watched the barbed arrow fly toward me, I reflected on the irony of the situation. Mockingjay, the girl who had saved our near-dead cause, would kill me. I wasn't nearly as angry, bitter, or even afraid as I might have been, as I should have been. It was calming, somehow, to watch the instrument of your death climb slowly towards you.

I had done all that was possible. I was certain of that, more certain than I had been of anything for a long while. I was a monster, a villain, but in the end I had destroyed a dictatorship. Call me what you will, but I had won.

It was their turn now. Everdeen, Hawthorne, and all the others. They would find a way to make Panem better than I ever could have. They would have a hell of a job ahead of them, of course. Perhaps there would come a time when they could understand what I'd done and how I had to do it, despite the consequences.

Selfishly, I hoped they would someday understand. It shouldn't have mattered, not when I was about to die, but there was always that part of me that yearned for human company. For someone to tell me that I had, indeed, done the right thing, that I had always chosen the best option.

There had been no other way. Another certainty in my uncertain life, and the only one that really mattered. As the arrow sunk into my chest, I felt the corners of my mouth upturn slightly. I was at peace.


End file.
